


Connvember Attempts

by straypunk



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, connvember
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-01-27 13:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21393121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straypunk/pseuds/straypunk
Summary: My attempts at Connvember 2019! The title will most likely change, once I get more entries written.I'll be tackling these sometimes in order, sometimes not, whenever I can. I'm gonna finish this prompt list, darn it-Prompt list byMauvue,on Tumblr!
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran & Steven Universe, Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Comments: 33
Kudos: 90





	1. autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Constellations](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eapTDC5es_4) \- the oh hellos
> 
> He may not have entirely realized it right then in that moment, but sometime in the fall, is when it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place sometime after _On the Run,_ and before _Horror Club._

Pearl's voice is shriller than usual. "_AMETHYST,_ why are there so many _dead leaves_ in the house?!!"  
  
Steven jolts, a sour note _twanging_ from his ukulele, as his hand slips. The boy grimaces, face scrunching up as Pearl continues to shout, going on about how she'd _just_ cleaned the house. He tunes her out as best he can, strumming a chord to get himself back into the groove, but it's nigh impossible when she starts _vacuuming_. (Again.)  
  
He utters a weary sigh, eyes trailing up to his sliding glass doors. _'The beach would be a good place to practice,'_ he muses, sliding off his bed. Steven slips on his boots, before he glances back at his guardian, who's engrossed in her task. She probably isn't going to hear him, if he yells to tell her about his plans...  
  
One hastily scribbled note later, he's out the door and onto the deck, ukulele in hand. The air is colder today, so he already made sure to grab a jacket. He can still hear the thrumming of the vacuum cleaner, even as he descends the steps down onto the sand.  
  
Only when he's well past the mailbox, does the sound fade. His ears are still sort of humming, but he can fix that. He looks down at his pale, lemon-yellow, orange, and salmon-pink instrument, before strumming it. The music brings him back to clarity, within an instant.  
  
His hand moves across the neck of the ukulele, as he begins to play. B and G-sharp-minor, in quick, tandem succession, his fingers plucking at the strings.  
  
Steven's voice starts quiet, as he mumbles out lyrics—"I can feel it on my _tongue. _Brick and mortar..."—getting a feel for the song as he starts to walk.  
  
"Thick as scripture, drawing lines in the _sand_, and laying borders... as _tall_ as _towers_..." he's not really singing yet, but his voice follows the tune springing from the ukulele. "I _babel_ on until my _voice_ is gone—"  
  
Footfalls in the sand startle his attention toward the bend of the cliffside, before the familiar figure of his best friend comes scrambling around the corner. She's wearing a cream-white sweater, that pale brown jacket with the fur collar, gray jeans, and her sneakers, today. Connie's dark hair whips behind her as she skids to a stop, face alight with joy as she spots him.  
  
"Steven!" she waves at him, before trekking closer.  
  
He waves in return, a smile unconsciously spreading across his face. "Hey Connie!"  
  
They meet halfway, Steven swinging his ukulele out of the way so they can share a hug. It's a shorter embrace, but her touch leaves him oddly cozy. She asks him what he's doing out here—"Isn't it a little cold to be playing on the beach?"—to which he chuckles lightly.  
  
"Pearl got jittery when Amethyst tried to sneak a bunch of _'autumn decoration'_ into her room, and went on a really loud cleaning spree," he says. "I wanted to practice some music, so I figured it'd be easier to do it out here."  
  
There's a knowing look in Connie's eyes. "It's that bad, huh?"  
  
He nods, feigning stoicness. "'Tis indeed."  
  
They giggle for a brief moment, before sitting down near the wall of the cliff. The sand is in that weird middle-ground of cold and warm, but it's not bothersome.  
  
"So, what were you practicing?" Connie asks, shedding her backpack.  
  
Now, he _could_ just outright tell her the name of the song, but why talk when you can _sing?_ He plucks at the strings, setting himself up with that quick rhythm of B and G-sharp-minor. She eyes him, brow quirking up.  
  
**I can feel it on my tongue**  
**Brick and mortar thick as scripture **  
**Drawing lines in the sand and laying borders as tall as towers**  
**I babel on until my voice is gone**  
  
"OH, this is the one you showed me last week!" Connie's eyes are sparkling as he nods. "I haven't stopped listening to it."  
  
**This hill I'll die on is about 90 meters of bricks **  
**Colored indigo, and inscribed with my name, and lined with cedar **  
**But the words fall flat like cymbals crashing **  
**Like molars gnashing**  
  
She's humming the tune, almost-mumbling the lyrics. His heart thuds in his chest, as she picks up on the words, joining in.  
  
**'Cause like constellations a million years away **  
**Every good intention, every good intention **  
**Is interpolation, a line we drew in the array **  
**Looking for the faces, looking for the shapes in the silence**  
  
Connie's foot is tapping, and she's bobbing her head to the rhythm. She's smiling as her lips move, and Steven feels oddly dizzy with delight.  
  
Without warning, she's on her feet, spinning away from the cliff and further onto the beach. His heart leaps into his throat, and he loses all semblance of the english language as she starts to dance.  
  
**All that's left for me to climb to the heavens is **  
**The chasm of the night and a matter of time **  
**But I hear the rumble**  
**As the tectonic plates start to shake**  
**And I feel my blood pounding like the beat of a drum**  
  
And she continues to sing and dance in that very Connie way, unhindered by the fact he's only strumming the chords and keeping pace with her voice.  
  
"'Cause like constellations! A million years away! _Every_ good intention... _every_ good intention... is interpolation, a line we _drew_ in the array! Clinging to the _faces_... clinging to the shapes in the _silence..."_  
  
The sky is filled to the brim with warm hues of reds, pinks, and oranges, and he can swear the autumn air has become a little warmer. Or maybe that's the wonderful, fuzzy _glow_, curled up in his chest? 

**Like constellations imploding in the night **  
**Everything is turning, everything is turning **  
**And the shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light **  
**And everything you thought you knew will fall apart, but you'll be alright**  
  
It doesn't really matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's fallen ridiculously, utterly and absolutely, head-over-heels in love with her.


	2. nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've yet to fall asleep as Stevonnie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cute 'n fluffy entry! No music to this time, I'm afraid.  
Takes place sometime Post-_Alone Together._

The late-afternoon sunlight makes the waves sparkle, and the sand warm to the touch. They've set up a beach-blanket, on account of the nice weather, and the fact there isn't any gem-monsters to fight. The hardest thing Connie has been struggling with, is the urge to _yawn._ The book in her hands stopped being interesting five pages ago, and she's already finished her homework for the week.

There isn't much else to do, since Pearl insisted they go outside. She sounds a bit like her mom, sometimes, with the whole _"Too much television will damage your brain,"_ rhetoric.  
  
Steven is sitting next to her, strumming on his ukulele, but his eyes are droopy. His playing has slowed expanetionaly within the last few minutes, and he's sort of leaning on her shoulder.  
  
She blinks, and at last, allows a yawn to overtake her. Steven follows suit, almost lion-like with how wide and long he inhales.  
  
Connie snorts a quiet laugh. "It's just that kinda day, I guess."  
  
"Yeah..." his voice is droopy, too. "I could go for a nap, honestly..."  
  
She nods. "Yeah, me too."  
  
In a flash, Steven's eyes are bright, and he's sitting up. Connie raises an eyebrow at him, smirking. "Hey, I have an idea! Since we're both all woozy 'n sleepy, why don't we, uh—"  
  
His words fumble, and Connie closes her book. "Why don't we what?"  
  
He pokes his fingers together, and she can't help but smile. "Why don't we... try taking a nap as Stevonnie?"  
  
Connie's mouth jolts into a tiny _'oh,'_ and she tilts her head. They haven't tried something like that before... they've danced, talked, and _existed_ as Stevonnie, but... they've never slept as Stevonnie. The gears in her brain begin to stir, and she puts a contemplative finger to her lips.  
  
"Would you want to try?" Steven asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt.  
  
Connie _hums_ softly. "Well... we've only been Stevonnie a few times, but..." a little grin spreads across her face. "Yeah! We've never tried sleeping as Stevonnie, so it'd be a new experience."  
  
There's a sparkle in his eyes now, and Steven grins back at her. "And Stevonnie is all about new experiences!"  
  
She lets out a laugh, as she gets to her feet. "Exactly!"  
  
Fusion is still a little shaky for them, but when they want the same thing—both driven by the curiosity of a new thing to explore, for example—it's as easy as it was that fateful night. They still have to dance, but it's a lazy, sleepy twirl and shuffle, before both kids are bathed in a pinkish glow.  
  
Stevonnie opens their eyes, taking in a deep breath of the salty air. They smile, arms wrapping around their shoulders in an embrace. "... This is nice."  
  
With Connie's book on one side, and Steven's ukulele on the other, the fusion allows themself to fall back onto the blanket, hair spreading out behind them in a dark halo.  
  
"Sleep well, Steven."  
  
"You too, Connie."  
  
Stevonnie closes their eyes, nuzzling into the warm blanket and getting comfortable. For science and curiosity's sake, they begin to drift, sleep overtaking them within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Stevonnie, waking up three hours later, groggy and grumpy, with sand in their hair:** W e l l... can't say we didn't try- This might need further experimentation. Next time, we're setting an alarm.


	3. first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [I Would Do Anything For You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOIfNyBmZ0g) \- foster the people
> 
> They're sort-of-but-not dating, and they've been on plenty of probably-first-but-they're-too-shy-to-call-them dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place Post-Movie. Steven and Connie are about 18 and 17, respectively.

College is grueling, with long hours of study, countless assignments, and sleepless nights—but it's going to be _worth it_ because her parents paid for this, she's faced tougher advisories, and she's helped Steven save the planet at _least_ twice now, so she's _going_ to get that diploma if it _kills her._

Well, _okay_, maybe that last bit is an exaggeration.

Connie looks out the window of her dorm room and cringes. It's pitch black, aside from the streetlamps, and the clock on her wall says eight-forty-seven. Essay number three million has been proofread six times, and she really should just send it in already, but she just wants to be sure it's the best it can be.

Her phone buzzes to life, the screen lighting up as a familiar ringtone jingles into the air. One of the songs her Universe wrote, just for her. She snatches up the device, swiping to accept the call, before bringing it up to her ear.

A smile has already creeped its way onto her lips. "Hey, Biscuit."

_"Connniiieee! I'm about five minutes away. You ready to leave?"_

She blinks. _Leave?_ One glance at her calendar reminds her that it's Friday, and—oh. This week has really flown by. A startled laugh bubbles up and she gets to her feet. "OH, I'm—not yet!"

There's a knowing, worried tone in his voice. _"Have you had dinner, yet?"_

She starts grabbing a few articles of clothing from her closet, shifting the phone to her shoulder. "Well, not _exactly,_ but—"

_"Then I'm taking you out to eat!"_

Connie pauses, jolting at the idea. It's not like she hasn't eaten _anything_ all day... she's certainly not going to tell him she's _only_ had two bowls of instant ramen, since there was way too much to get finished today, because that would just make him worry about unimportant things. "Steven, we can just—we can just eat when we get back to the beach house. I already had some ramen—"

_"Nope, I wanna treat you to something special."_

Her eyes narrow. He's up to something _suspicious_, and it's making her heart flutter. "... '_Special_.'"

_"Yup, special!_"

"Like _what_, mister?"

She can _hear_ him grinning as he holds back a laugh. _"You'll see!"_

So Steven's being _cheeky_ and _secretive_ tonight. Connie smirks as she stuffs her to-go-bag with an extra shirt. "Alright then—keep your secrets."

He giggles in that sweet, very Steven way, and her heart beats a little faster. _"You're gonna like it, I promise."_

She scowls, rummaging through her closet again. "Well _at least_ tell me if I'm gonna need to get dressed up for this 'special' thing."

_"Nope. It's just casual Friday, Strawberry. And it's my treat—so I better not see your wallet at all, tonight."_

Connie hums as she drags out her bomber jacket. She can't help but grin, as she lits her voice into a _purr_. "Or _what_, Biscuit?"

_"I-I, uh—I'll—"_ he just dissolves into a bunch of flustered noises for a few seconds. _"I'll kiss you—a bunch. In public!"_

Now it's her turn to giggle. "_Ooo_, I'm _shaking_ in my boots."

Steven's no doubt a blushing mess at this point, and the mental image makes her chest feel fuzzy and warm. He says he'll be there shortly, and hangs up after a quick kiss-goodbye. Connie sticks her phone in her pants' pocket with a soft chuckle. _'So he's taking me out to dinner at a non-fancy restaurant, on a Friday night...'_ the thought makes her face heat up, and she shoves an extra pair of socks in her bag.

It's _not_ a date. They don't go on dates. They go on _outings,_ and they go _places_ _together._ It's absolutely not a date. It's never a date of the romantic kind, because _they don't go on dates. _They're not ready to call them dates, just like they're not ready to say boyfriend-and-girlfriend. _It's not a date._

She pauses, once her bag is slung over her shoulder and her hand is on the doorknob. It's not... _usually_ a date, but... Steven was _awfully_ cheeky over the phone. Not being direct, refusing to tell her _where_ they're going to eat. Has he...? No, Steven isn't _that_ bold. Connie walks out the door, locking it behind her and slipping on her jacket, reminding herself that this is _not a date._

Once she's out of the building and walking toward the dorm parking lot, she can see the Dondai turning the street corner. She meets him half way, as Steven pulls up to the sidewalk. He rolls down his window, trying to do his best _Flynn Rider_ impersonation with a smoldering grin. Connie can't hold back a snort and a laugh, as he quirks an eyebrow.

"Where to, ma'am?" he asks.

She says nothing as she circles around to hop into the passenger side, but aimes to swat at his shoulder once she's seated. "_Dork._"

Steven laughs at her playful tone, dodging away from her hand. "You love me, though."

Connie reaches over to strap in her seatbelt, still grinning. "_Very_ much."

The ride is full of light conversation—the usual pleasantries of how classes are going, and how Steven's Diamond responsibilities are fairing—and the radio singing away at a low volume. Every now and again one of them turns it up to listen to a particular song, and sing along, before they lull back into talking. But Steven remains tight lipped about their destination, refusing to say even a _peep_ about the restaurant. Connie prods a few more times, but it's clear that he's adamant about keeping it secret.

Her brain comes grinding to a halt as Steven makes a turn to pull into the local Scarlet Thursday. Connie splutters and she tries to regain her bearings. "I thought you said it _wasn't_ fancy!"

"It's not, I promise!" Steven puts a hand on her arm, smiling. "I just... wanted to take you somewhere nice. Not MacAuley's level of casual, but... nice."

She would've been fine with a burger and some fries form MacAuley's, and he _knows_ that, and she knows that _he knows_ that _she_ knows that. The question—_"Is this a date?"_—burns on her tongue, but she can't bring herself spit it out.

This isn't a date. Scarlet Thursday isn't _crazy_ _fancy_, so it's not a date. It's not a romantic date at a fancy restaurant, because Scarlet Thursday _isn't fancy._ It's _nice_. Dates don't happen at _nice_ restaurants, they happen at _fancy_ restaurants. That's not to say they absolutely _can't_ happen at nice restaurants, but _this_ isn't a _date_.

The parking lot isn't too crowded, so Steven finds a spot in record time. The two exit the car, and she's already holding his hand before the action fully registers. It's just so natural—especially in a parking lot. You should always hold hands in a parking lot, or when crossing the street, because it's for safety. But... his hands are also just really nice to hold.

Steven's face goes a dusty pink, as Connie steals a cheek-kiss before they get to the door.

_Not a date, not a date, not a date, not a date—_

The maitre d' is well put together, with a scarlet vest, and her hair tied back in a ponytail. "Good evening! Do you have a reservation?"

Steven loops his arm around Connie's, smiling at the woman. "Yes ma'am. Booth for two, name is Universe."

She checks some kind of list that Connie can't see, before nodding. "Right this way, sir—madam."

They follow as she grabs a pair of menus, and Connie's trying her best to fight off the heat blooming in her face. He made an _entire reservation_ for them. An _entire reservation!_ People who go on _dates_ make reservations at fancy restaurants and—no! No, this is a _nice_ restaurant, Steven is just senseable, and _this is not a date!_

... But what if it _is_ a date?

She slides into the booth, sitting across from her Universe, whose expression is pleased as punch, but also quite sheepish. He's got his hands clasped together on the table, and he's trying to hide a creeping little grin.

"Can I get you two started on some drinks?" the waitress asks.

"Sure, I'll have—uh," Steven flips over the menu, Connie following suit. "_Some... _sweet tea."

Connie's eyes flash over the sodas, and she really shouldn't, but... "I'll have some cola."

"Alrighty! I'll be back shortly."

The second the waitress is gone, Connie locks eyes with her almost-definitely-but-not-by-name-boyfriend. She keeps her voice at a stage-whisper. "_Steven! _Is this... did you just take me on a _date?_"

He ducks his head, and her heart drums even faster as he puts a hand on his neck. It _is_ a date! "I've been waiting to surprise you since this morning," he admits, unable to hide his grin any longer. "We, uh, we don't have to consider this an official _first date_, i-if you don't—"

Connie shakes her head, smiling. _'Oh you sweet, wonderful boy.'_ "No, this... this is really nice," she stifles a quiet laugh. "I just never thought you'd be the one to initiate."

Steven clearly wants to cover his face, if his fidgety hands and blushing cheeks have anything to say. He's an adorable _mess,_ right now. "C-Come on, I'm not _that_ shy—"

They lapse into gentle conversation, once their drinks come. Connie swirls her straw in her soda, ice cubes clinking against the brown plastic cup, and she honestly doesn't want to be anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Steven, a sappy mother fucker, after he made the reservation earlier that day:** ... Would flowers be too much, Garnet??  
**Garnet, having an internal battle with Ruby and Sapphire who keep screaming "NO" and "YES," respectively, and interchangeably:** .... Go with what you feel is right.  
**Steven, jotting down notes:** Got'cha. No flowers—too strong a message.


	4. bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ouchie_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place sometime pre-Season 5.

Today was supposed to be a simple mission. Hunt down the corrupted gem, poof it, bubble it, and then go home. They've done that same type of mission for what feels like _hundreds_ of times, now. Sure, each gem is different, but the end result is the same, every time.

It's _routine,_ at this point.

This time was different.

This time, he was terrified.

The chimera-like gem's claws slash downward, knocking Connie's sword from her hands.

Steven's stomach knots, as he scrambles to summon a bubble around her.

Connie makes a move to reclaim her blade.

Blood sprays across the ground.

The bubble encloses them, Steven's arms wrapping around his fallen knight. His mind is working too fast for him even comprehend, each mental image and thought blurring by before he can grasp at it. One theme remains consistent, _protect her,_ as the gem roars. There's blood on Connie's arm, but it's nothing compared to the gashes across her torso. And yet, Connie is still struggling, lurching for her sword that's outside the bubble.

He tries to keep her still, but his entire body is shaking. "C-Connie, _Connie—!"_

She's stubborn, as always. "I gotta get my _sword,_ Steven—"

Everything starts spinning when the gem headbutts the bubble, and it dawns on him that she doesn't even realize that she's _hurt._ The two slam into the back of the bubble as it hits a wall of rock, but Steven's defense never wavers.

Connie looks down and flinches. "... _Oh._"

Claws scrape against the outside of the bubble as he holds her close. He refuses to register the blood seeping into his clothes, because Pearl has the best laundry detergent known to man and gem-kind.

He can't take his eyes off the slashes in Connie's torso. They're not actually_ that_ deep, but her shirt is nothing short of ruined. He's glad she didn't bring her bomber jacket on this mission, else it would be ruined, too. Without a second thought, he leans down and plants a couple of kisses to Connie's stomach, ignoring her protests that he'll get blood all over him.

The bubble stays strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Pearl, shakily doing laundry after the kids got back from a successful mission:** _*distressed bird-mom nosies*_


	5. rainfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [atmosphere](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NP8BivTFINY) \- eyeless
> 
> The sound of rain puts Steven to sleep really easily—especially when he's curled up in Connie's lap. (Thunder still kind of scares him, though.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place sometime post-movie, little bit pre-future.

The beach house is cozy and warm, thanks to the crackling fire in the hearth.

Rain patters against the roof, and the glass dome upstairs, like a gentle orchestra of static.

Connie has been here all evening, and it's well past their usual bedtimes. But the girl is awake and reading, a textbook nestled in the crook of her arm, and Steven blissfully lying in her lap.

His breathing has gotten slow and deep, and his eyes are half-lidded. He probably doesn't think she can see the cute, sleepy little smile on his face, but she's been eying it for the past half hour. She's been keeping a good cover, turning pages at regular intervals with a neutral expression, but now he's grinning and nuzzling up closer to her side.

That does her in, and Connie looks down at him with a light smirk. Her boy giggles, bashful and tired as he moves to cover his face with a hand. She juggles her textbook over to sit next to her, after marking her place, just as Steven rolls over onto his side.

He wraps his arms around her waist, and buries his face into her side. Steven sneaks a lazy glance at her, to see that Connie's still smirking at him. He gives a content sigh, staring back with a dreamy look. "You're so _pretty..._"

Connie runs a hand through his curls, shaking her head. "And _you're_ cute. What's with the adorableness tonight? Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Steven hums and leans into her touch, eyes closing fully. "Rain's makin' me _sleepy..._"

His sappy tone and deep-drowsy voice makes her giggle, and she continues caressing her fingers through his hair. "I wouldn't mind sleeping like this, tonight. Kinda reminds me of when you spent the night at my house for the first time."

It was raining that night, too.

Steven's smile grows, and he utters another, wonderfully content hum. "I'd like that... a lot..."

_Stars_, he's so unfathomably _precious_. They stay like that for a while, existing with each other. Handfuls of quiet minutes tick by without a care, as Connie watches her Universe drift into a light slumber. The rain keeps coming down, but it kind of sounds like it's growing louder and harder with each passing tick—

A crack of thunder rips through the house, shaking the windows.

Connie jolts, but Steven _jumps,_ the boy yelping and latching onto her with wide eyes. It takes her a second to realize that he's _shaking_, limbs trembling and breath coming out in sharp little gasps.

She kind of wants to laugh, but at the same time she feels terrible for her poor boy. Connie finds a happy medium in holding back a chuckle, and pulling Steven up into her arms. His arms encircle her neck and shoulder, and Connie keeps her voice soft. "You okay?"

Steven just nods, and she begins to rub little circles into his back. He nuzzles into the crook of her neck, pulling his legs up and curling into her embrace. Connie plants a ginger kiss on the side of his head.

Another rolling stretch of thunder rumbles overhead, and Steven shrinks even closer to her.

So, Connie leans in and kisses into his hair, staying curled around him. "I've got you, I've got you... _you're okay._ I'm here..."

She feels him smile into her neck. "_... I'm here_..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garnet came along sometime after Connie eventually fell asleep, and draped a blanket overtop of them. She found them the next morning, tangled together and sprawled across the couch, Steven somehow _under_ Connie, and the blanket being the only thing that's kept them actually _on_ the couch at all.


	6. future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she was little, Connie never figured her future would look anything like this. **//** Steven is unsure about all but one aspect of his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during, and then Post-Little Homeschool

Connie never dreamed of visiting a house on the beach, every chance she got.

She never thought her very best friend would turn out to be space royalty.

There was no way she could've predicted an alien race would peacefully integrate with humanity, and she would play a part in helping their new leader.

She always dreamed of harrowing adventures with mythical griffins, castles, and witches in deep forests—though, Lion is arguably _much_ cooler than a silly ol' griffin.

Connie glances up toward an older picture taped to her wall, gaze briefly catching on the polaroid of Lion above it. The picture in question is of a younger Steven, holding onto his signature ukulele, and posing on the beach with a mic stand. She leans into her hand, a lazy smile spreading across her lips. Her boy has grown so much within the past few years...

Maybe he's a little too responsible, these days. He's _handsome,_ cute as ever, and he's _confident_, but she hasn't heard him giggle in that very Steven-y way for... a while.

Her smile disappears, and she leans more heavily on her elbow.

Sure, things have been good, but... the last time she saw him, his smile didn't _quite_ reach his eyes. He's been like this ever since the Spinel incident. Connie grimaces at the label. She really should call that... _event,_ something else.

**//**

Steven has never been sure about what tomorrow will bring.

There has never been a dull moment in the past few years of his life, and he's taken it in stride—for better or for worse.

He's always faced with new problems, every day. Teaching gems about human culture is a wild ride, so he's never sure how some of them will react.

He's... _is _he happy? He has to be. He's got his happy ending, with all the strings attached, and all the gems he needs to help.

Well... _yes_. He's happy.

The Dondai's hood is a perfectly fine seat to practice on, so here he is. Staring off into the distance, overlooking Beach City, and just... holding his guitar.

He's happy. He's perfectly happy with all this uncertainty stirring in his gut.

The teen strums out a chord, then two, then three, four, and a melody starts to form in his throat. Jumbled lyrics untwine from his tongue, and he's singing a ballad about strawberries and swords.

"Through battlefields of red-berry hills, I'll... always come back to you, m-my—"

He stops, the word strangling him.

He's been in love for the past few years, and the person of his affections kissed him first. Sure, cheek-kisses aren't... _super official,_ but... she _kissed him_ on the _cheek_, first.

"... Through battlefields of red-berry hills, I'll always come back to you, my..."

He can't coax the word out, because something feels so _off_ and _wrong._ He shouldn't be singing to the wind, he... he should be singing to _her._

He should be singing to his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ultimately](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-RCiBWmBBc) \- khai dreams


End file.
